


Salt and Iron Shield

by MadameFluffnStuff



Series: The Cuddling Hour Is Upon Us--ficlets from tumblr [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Katara is a tender soul and needs to be protected at any and all costs, Modern AU, Robbery, fiance!Aang, fiance!Katara, more tags to be added tonight when i have time, nothing graphic just minor blood, protective!Aang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:29:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27147376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameFluffnStuff/pseuds/MadameFluffnStuff
Summary: The men broke into the store and demanded things that weren't there, just like in her house when Katara was a girl.The men need a hostage. They set their sights on Katara.But as long as he drew breath, Aang wouldn't let her be ripped from him.
Relationships: Aang & Katara (Avatar), Aang/Katara (Avatar)
Series: The Cuddling Hour Is Upon Us--ficlets from tumblr [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981606
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Salt and Iron Shield

**Author's Note:**

> (from Tumblr) l1febn0t's ask for the hurt/comfort dialogue challenge:
> 
> Kataang + #11: "Oh, God you're bleeding." + Aang as the injured.

Katara’s cheek pressed against broken glass and laminate. The men shouted some more, and sirens surged to life outside.

Something broke. Someone screamed. Katara couldn’t see either, and Aang held her tighter and pressed down on her harder when she moved on reflex.

“Don’t move.” His voice was right in her ear. Her fiancé’s words were clear and cool like the melt of mountain snow that swelled in the river behind their house, and it cooled her just the same. “It’s okay, Katara. I got you.”

Another smash. “ _FUCK!_ ” Bits of what were once one of their captor’s cell-phones clattered into Katara’s line of view.

The negotiations weren’t going in their favor, it seemed.

Aang held her tighter.

He trembled a bit, too, even as he flattened himself as much as he could. He had hidden her from the Rough Rhinos so far, but the men were _furious_ to the brim and threatened to spill over their anger.

It was just like when the men broke into her house when she was a girl.

“A-Aang…?”

“ _Shhh_ , _shhh_ , _shhh..._ ” He kissed her temple and pressed his cheek to hers. “I’m right here. I won’t leave you. I promise. And I promise I won’t let you get hurt. Just breathe, okay?”

Katara would have nodded if her muscles weren't wound into coils and locked by a key kept just out of her reach.

Footsteps clipped over the laminate somewhere to her left—too close and getting closer.

Katara’s breathing ran away from her until her every inhale was a gasp.

Aang pressed down harder, and the slow, strong fill of his lungs pressed hers like a blacksmith’s bellow and guided her to breathe in rhythm with him. He kissed her cheek again, and he mumbled something that her mind was too fuzzy to hear but that curled around her like an ‘ _I love you_ ’.

Then the footsteps were right in front of her.

“Hey, Mongke! There’s a girl here!”

_“There’s a kid here! What do we—?” The man didn’t get a chance to finish talking, but Katara was dangling from his grip when her father kicked in the door._

Aang held Katara tighter and curled over her like a furious shield. He hooked his legs with hers and settled his arms into chains around her.

Katara pressed her face to his. He kissed her cheek again, tasted salt, and the heat of his glare at the feet in her vision nearly singed her hair.

“Why the fuck didn’t you say somethin’ _before_ the bastards got here?!”

“Would you two morons shut the hell up and just get her? We need a hostage if we’re getting out of this with the loot. There’s a sniper at eight o’ clock across the street. He won’t shoot if we got a girl in tears, especially with a crowd behind the squad line—”

The other thief was still talking when the feet in front of her moved. He crouched and grabbed her arm—just like when she was a girl—and tried to rip her away and to her feet.

Aang held her like an anchor and didn’t give an inch.

Katara heard only her pulse and his pained sounds as the man kicked him and tried to tear _him_ off Katara instead.

_The man with the blood on his face kicked over the couch, a feeble defense, and looked at her with a smile that was hungry to kill her._

More shouting. Another set of boots came into her teary vision. Aang trembled, and the next kick to his ribs _should_ have loosened his grip enough for the hand on Katara’s arm to rip her away from him.

Even more shouting.

And then a gunshot.

And Katara couldn’t remember much after that.

Her breathing started to run away again.

And even though liquid warmth pooled into her dress from a wound that wasn’t hers, Aang kissed her cheek, pressed his face to hers, and promised her that he wouldn’t let go. He struggled to control his breathing so as to guide her heaving lungs with his, and even though he was gasping for air, he tamed her with his effort alone.

The paramedics pried them apart only once Aang deemed it safe—once Katara could breathe again.

“Aang—Oh God, Aang, you’re bleeding. You’re _bleeding_ , Aang.”

_Sokka had been thrown against the wall. His head hit a painting. Their mother’s and his head-wound’s blood stained so much of the carpet that their father opted to move them from the house of new nightmares and into the shelter outside—an emergency hut half-buried in the ground and capable of protecting them from any tornado._

Aang smiled, his face pale, and kept his hand on her arm like an anchor keeping her from being blown away. He held her even as the hole in his side was filled with padding to stem the bleeding.

“It’s okay, Katara. I got you.”

Katara hiccuped. They were in the back of the ambulance, and Aang still hadn’t let her go.

She didn’t have time to cry over the feeling of sudden exposure—the bright lights like the couch being kicked away from her and leaving her naked and vulnerable.

Aang tugged her to his chest, and his arms locked around her like the _click_ of a parachute’s buckle. He took a deep breath that caught her mind from spiraling, and his slow exhale guided her feet back onto solid ground.

He kissed her cheek, tasted salt, and pressed his face to hers, and the paramedics would need nothing short of the jaws of life to rip her away from him.


End file.
